


Promises To Keep

by KoolJack1



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Manipulation, Mental Instability, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-07
Updated: 2013-06-07
Packaged: 2017-12-14 05:10:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/833115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoolJack1/pseuds/KoolJack1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal makes a house call to Will after he is released from the hospital. I might add more to it if people like it, I don't know yet. Personally, I want to add more so I probably will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promises To Keep

It's nearly midnight when Hannibal arrives at Will's house. He hears the dogs barking the second he steps out of the car, and he sees Will peek through the curtains on the second floor before he can even step up onto the porch. The fabric behind the window flutters back to it's original position, and Hannibal inhales the cool crisp air. The whole area smells like Will. The front door is open when he gets there, but Will is no where to be found. Instead, when he opens the door, a heard of dogs greet him happily. The know who he is-none of them bark. They wag their tails happily and he lets his hands fall from his pockets and extend down. His lip curl in disgust when they lick at his digits; he hates these animals. How Will lives with them is beyond him, the smell of them nearly overpowers Will's in the house. They're a part of Will's scent, and it annoys him. When he thinks they've greeted him enough, he almost puts his hands back in his pockets before thinking better of it. He'll have to wash them first. He tries stepping forward, but the dogs refuse to part a way for him. He glares down at them, resisting the urge to kick at them. They look up at him, tongues hanging out sloppily. Stupid creatures, they are, he concludes and forces them out of his way with his leg more gently than he would like to. They take a hint finally and head back to their previous activities and Hannibal peers around the room.

He isn't sure what he was expecting, but the room is exactly the same as it was the last time he was here. Part of him had expected it to be in disarray, to match Will's mental state. "Will?" He calls, his only reply being silence. He heads up the stairs after peeking into the other rooms and finding them empty. Will's bedroom door is slightly ajar, and Hannibal nudges it open more, "Will?" He tries again, but this time he knows Will's in here. He can smell him, even in the complete darkness of the room. He steps in, standing just inside the door.

"Please leave the light off," Will's voice sounds strained; tortured. "It bothers my eyes."

"Are you experiencing a headache?"

He doesn't get an answer, and he reaches for the switch and the room is suddenly light enough that even he flinches. Will whines slightly, desperately covering his eyes. Will is curled up on the bed, and it looks as if he hadn't moved in days. "I need to be able to see you to help you, Will. Have you taken some aspirin?"

Will nods, his chest rising and falling quickly, his hands covering the top half of his face. Hannibal unbuttons his coat and drapes it over the back of the nearest chair and comes to Will's side. He takes a firm hold on Will's wrist and the other man jumps slightly, "You told Alana and Jack you needed time away from them," he states, checking Will's pulse, "You didn't say that to me, so I'm assuming that meant you wanted me here."

Will nods behind his hands, and Hannibal guides Will's hands from his face. He gives little resistance; his eyes blurry from unshed tears and blinking far too rapidly. He's squinting against the light as if he's looking directly at the sun. "I don't want them to watch me die," he whispers brokenly. Hannibal touches his face, pulls his eyes open wider to check them.

"You aren't dying, Will. I won't let you," he promises, running his fingers down the sides of Will's neck.

"I'd be better off, anything is better than living this way."

Hannibal returns his fingers to Will's temples and rubs gently but firmly. The man's eyes below him flutter closed, "You're experiencing mental illness, and instead of trying to recover you're so focused on it that you're stressing yourself out worse. You can't adapt the mindset that death is the answer to these problems."

He continues rubbing Will's temples and moves his thumbs over Will's closed eyes, gently rubbing them as well, "You must relax, Will. I want to help you but you have to allow me to." He's breathing more normally now, and the tension in his body has lessened- Hannibal can feel it. Will's fingers clutch Hannibal's pant leg when he sits down on the edge of the bed.

"I wanted you here because I think if something bad happens to me, you'll be able to be okay," Will admits weakly.

"If you're suggesting I care about you less than they do, you're very wrong," Hannibal replies, and Will's tongue comes out to wet his lips.

"I'm not. I'm saying you'd stop me if I...tried to hurt myself. You wouldn't blame yourself, you'd be able to be okay if I did hurt myself. If something happened you wouldn't let your emotions get in the way, you'd be able to help me or-move on if needed."

Hannibal is silent for a moment, rubbing Will's face until he feels Will try to open his eyes. "Are you contemplating suicide?"

Will's unfocused grey-blue eyes look up at him, and he looks vulnerable, "The thoughts keep coming into my head. Either I kill myself or I wind up killing someone else. Until I wind up hurting someone else, I have to feel myself slipping under the water and I wont be able to know who I am or where I am at all. I wont know anything, I'll hallucinate to the point where I wont have a reality anymore. I don't want to die like that, I want to die while I still know who I am and why I am; when it's really my choice."

Hannibal's face remains impassive, and he struggles for a moment. Part of him wants to find Will's gun and place it in his hand; tell him that the decision is his and if he wants to die with some dignity he wont stop him. Not because he wants Will to die, he doesn't. He wants to see Will bleed, he wants to touch the liquid that runs through his body. He wants to taste it, to consume it; to have some of Will inside himself. It would be simple, hand Will the gun and sit on the edge of the bed. He'd even hold Will's free hand while the man cried and his hand trembled as he put the barrel in his mouth. He licks his lips, and instead places a hand on Will's. "I promise you, I wont let either of those things happen."

"I know, that's why I wanted you here."


End file.
